


Guilt of the Innocent

by nerdygaycas



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alley Sex, Chinese Translation Available, Dark Original Percival Graves, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Credence Barebone, PWP, Religious Conflict, folks there is literally no plot to this one, graves shushing during sex, i was explicitly told to add that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdygaycas/pseuds/nerdygaycas
Summary: Credence can't help but tempt Mr. Graves into sin. It's his fault the man can't control himself when they're together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授翻]天真罪愆(Guilt of the Innocent)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406361) by [BEVEL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BEVEL/pseuds/BEVEL)



> oh no! this has no plot, it's just mindless dubious sex and all that jazz, yikesss  
> also it's 100% dark graves, but can be read as grindelwald if you prefer so
> 
> Chinese translation by the wonderful [BEVEL ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BEVEL/pseuds/BEVEL)can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10406361)
> 
> Chinese translation by [BEVEL ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BEVEL/pseuds/BEVEL) can also be found [here](http://www.mtslash.org/thread-230012-1-1.html)

“Mmm, _fuck_! Did you think I'd let get away with this, boy? Parading around with that coy look in your eyes, licking your lips like the greedy little thing you are? Did you think I wouldn't notice?”

Mr. Graves was practically pouncing on Credence. The boy was scared, but he was excited too. Expectant and eager to see what Mr. Graves' actions would be. He was a kind man, and a just one too, but he didn't like flirts, and apparently Credence fluttering his dark lashes while eyeing him across the street had been offensive enough to the man. 

“So what shall I do with you, my boy? Hmm? You are fucking tempting me, Credence. You're the reason I'm like _this._ ”

The man took Credence’s hand and guided it over his crotch where his hardened cock pulsed warmly beneath tweed and cotton layers. 

“This is all your doing, my boy. You should take care of it.”, groused the man with a smirk on his mouth.

Credence knew it was wrong. That touching Mr. Graves like this wasn't virtuous in God's ever-watchful eye. He felt dirty, like he'd only be clean once he bathed in scalding water, only when his skin was peeled off raw.

Mr. Graves wasn’t giving him a chance to step back, he kept pushing further, unthreading Credence, unraveling him until he was nothing but needy and desperate, and burning with the want to please him.

It was wrong. To leave his hand over the heated bulge, to close his grip around it, and whimper at its feel. He was no better than the whores that waited in dank alleys for clients to fornicate with. In fact, he was worse, because he received no payment in return, nothing but the satisfaction of having had pleased Mr. Graves. 

He didn’t do it because he needed to, but because he _liked_ to.

It was his responsibility, Credence granted, as Mr. Graves tugged a tuft of his hair, yanking his head backward and claiming his lips with fierce intensity, kissing him roughly and without any trace of affection. Prying open his mouth to reclaim him more effectively as his tongue overpowered Credence’s and his teeth bit hard at the bottom lip. The man was simply taking what was his by right. 

Then Mr. Graves huffed in discontent, halting the violent attack that was all spit and teeth and tongue,

"Fuck. I have a meeting in an hour, better get this over with quick."

And then Mr. Graves was taking out his wand from a pocket and muttering words Credence didn’t know the meaning of, being everything his Ma preached against.

Ma would be even more disappointed in Credence if she knew what he was up to. 

He was disobedient and lecherous. He enticed Mr. Graves, and drove him into sin. Were it not for Credence Mr. Graves wouldn't commit such hideous acts. 

Mr. Graves turned him around so he was pressed face-first against the rough brick wall, soft skin marked by the rugged seams of the stone. He felt Mr. Graves widening the space between his legs, positioning himself in the middle as he coiled, like a serpent, around Credence, whispering gravelly words to the side of his neck,

"Atta boy. You should learn the consequences of your actions. Maybe then you'll learn a little self-respect instead of offering yourself to me like a racy minx. Can you feel that, boy? Is this what you wanted?"

Sitting heavy between the cheeks of his bottom was Mr. Graves’ fully hardened shaft. The man was rutting himself against the boy's ass, the friction of his thrusts and the way Credence pushed himself backward, eliciting moans from both of them.

In the mouth of the alley passerby hurried by, not looking at the two of men going at it like animals crazed by the heat. 

Credence squeezed his eyes shut and begged for forgiveness. He was dirty and impure, a creature of depravity, but he couldn't help rolling back his hips, chasing after Mr. Graves' swollen cock.  
They were practically fucking through the clothes, the rapid frenzied motions a pretty accurate imitation of the lewd act sinners indulged in way too often without any shame.

Credence needed more, damnation or not at the end of his noose; and from his throat whines and loud whimpers where ripped. He looked at the street where people went on, oblivious of their deviance, and wished, just for a moment, they could see what a wicked thing he was. Wished they could see how he dutifully repaid Mr. Graves for making him think such ungodly thoughts.  

"Don't worry. I'll give my little slut what he needs.", growled Mr. Graves low, like a wolf. 

And then a chill was licking at the newly exposed skin of his thighs, traveling upward between his legs, and wrapping itself around his arousal, and a little farther behind. He was getting cold on the outside, but beneath the goose bumped flesh he was molten. 

Mr. Graves' hands squeezed the tender mounds of his ass, sizing him. His touch was too hot, like blazed iron, and just as possessive. Credence, filthy as he was, liked it, liked the idea of being marked by the man. Wanted -- _needed_ more. 

"Mr. Graves, please!", he breathed out raggedly. 

"What was that?", asked Mr. Graves, one of his hands abandoning the larger stretch of skin to favor the inner curve of the muscle, slithering downward until it reached the most intimate crevice in Credence's body. 

He'd have to fast for a whole year, pray more than a thousand nights for mercy, and surrender to Ma's belt for the rest of his life if he was ever to be admitted in heaven. If such a thing as salvation was still possible for his corrupted soul. 

"I'm a good man, Credence. I serve the wizardkind with devotion, I donate to charities, I even fought in the goddamn war. Do you think it's okay for you to tease me like this, do you think I should be degrading myself as Director of Security with a scrawny thing like you, in an alley in plain daylight? _Do you_ , boy?"

Credence heard Mr. Graves undoing the zipper of his pants. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Mr. Graves' pants were pulled down just enough for his cock to stand up proudly from beneath a mat of coarse dark hair.

He was bigger than Credence, and he was flushed angry pink and wetness was dribbling from his tip. 

"Do you want it?", asked Mr. Graves.

He was holding himself in one hand, deftly stroking at the length, pulling his closed fist up then south again, a mesmerizing sight that made Credence's mouth water. 

"Go on, answer me. I need to get back to the office soon." 

Credence nodded then, scared that Mr. Graves would actually leave him like this. 

Mr. Graves smiled then, white teeth lined up perfectly and gaze as voracious as the devil himself. That he was a malicious man was all Credence's fault. His lips were too full and pink --suited for kissing and other ill activities--, he spoke too gently –the fragility of his voice excited Mr. Graves--, his skin was creamy white --and Mr. Graves had a notable weakness for fair-skinned creatures--, and he always, _always_ leaned into Mr. Graves’ touch no matter how innocent.

Evidently Credence's body and thoughtless, careless actions were as luring as a well-paid whore's, Mr. Graves was only a man. 

"That'll do.", he heard Mr. Graves say, and suddenly the galvanized frame of an aged dustbin was thrown abruptly in their direction, landing with calculated design right next to Credence. 

Mr. Graves maneuvered him sideways, and until he was doubled over the cold metal, feeling every bit as humiliated as he should. 

"I should have you suck me first, but Picquery has a nagging tendency of showing up earlier, and I can't risk looking like I --well, fucked some harlot in an alley. Reputation is everything, my dear boy. Remember that."

"Yes, Mr. Graves.", replied Credence mechanically.

Hell would be worth it if Credence was able to tempt the man one more time. Now that Mr. Graves had made mention of it, Credence couldn't erase from his mind the idea of sucking off Mr. Graves. He would taste as sweet as heaven, and maybe that celestial kindness of him would cleanse Credence if he drank his seed.

He would make him wholesome again. 

"Merlin, boy! You're a mess you know that? But it’s okay, I can take care of you. Just... _like this_.", as Mr. Graves’ tone grew lower, Credence felt a cold, slicked finger prodding at his furled muscle, demanding entrance with small pumping motions.

It was a strange feeling; one he'd never experienced before in all his life. He didn't dare think much about it because then he’d regret being here. He'd ask Mr. Graves to stop. And he couldn't do that. He owed the man this much. 

"You're a bit tight, Credence. You haven't done this before have you?"

The mere suggestion both embarrassed and offended the boy. No. Of course he hadn't done such a thing. 

"You seem awfully eager for it, though." 

The digit was now pushing deeper, Credence could feel himself clenching around the intrusion, welcoming it in a tight grip. It didn't quite hurt, but it was stretching him more than he wanted to admit.

"All those people on the street... one word from me, and they could all get a good look at you, bent over, fucking yourself on my finger. Would you like that, exposing yourself for what you are?" 

Although the words sent a shiver down his spine and intensified the heat in his cheeks, Credence couldn't stop bucking backwards, moaning wantonly when he felt a second finger breaching him, scissoring inside and then curling at the edge.

Mr. Graves patted a hidden nook inside him that made Credence's knees give in, were it not for Mr. Graves’ strong grip he would've fallen to the grimy ground. The same spot was then stroked more vehemently and with more resolve, Mr. Graves’ chuckle ringing loud in his ears.

Credence was moaning loud now, quick breathy sounds that made him blush to the very tip of his ears. He sounded like a lewd prostitute, and he wanted to do what they did. He wanted to be fucked. 

There were tears falling over the rusty can lid, the metal digging into the skin of his stomach, cock wedged between his body and the cold surface of the dustbin. 

"You've only yourself to blame, my boy. You should've seen this coming." 

Credence nodded in agreement, fully certain of the truth in Mr. Graves’ words. 

Next, the man withdrew his fingers. Credence knew what that meant, or at least he hoped he did. He had always been patient, but it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to plead Mr. Graves to just take him.

He _could_ take it, was he not made for sin?

The blunt head of Mr. Graves’ cock came in contact with his slightly loosened hole. It felt too thick and Credence worried it would not fit. His hole was fluttering around nothing in anticipation, nerves sending him into an overdrive of sensations as Mr. Graves put one hand between his shoulder blades, keeping him locked in place. 

Mr. Graves began pushing inside then, slowly but never once stopping. Credence was being split in half, it stung and it hurt, and he wouldn’t be able to walk properly again, much less look at Mr. Graves in the eye without recalling the shameful memory. He bit back his cries, but he couldn't hold back the tears that copiously rained on the metal. 

"Shhh, shh. That's it, Credence. This is how you take responsibility for your actions, this is how you become a good boy again. You know that's the truth, don't you, Credence? Helping me fix what you yourself caused is the only way you can keep being good.", his voice had a soothing effect on the boy.

Mr. Graves had fully sheathed himself in Credence's tight channel. The man felt impossibly large inside him, and Credence marveled at the stretch of his own body to snugly accommodate Mr. Graves to perfection.

What a sinful thing he was, instinctively pulling the man deeper inside, rocking back into his crotch to feel the flush press of naked skin together. 

When Mr. Graves began moving Credence’s eyes rolled into his head, his mind dizzy and clogged with lust. Mr. Graves would drag back almost entirely and then thrust right into him, a smooth slide of slicked skin that emitted sounds so obscene Credence was mortified of hearing. A series of squelching noises that fogged his mind and made him clasp tighter around the shaft buried inside him. 

"That's it. _Good_ boy. Taking my cock so nice. Bet they don't teach you this on Sunday school, huh? But that's fine--”, he groaned, and braced himself on Credence’s back, using it as leverage, “I can teach you myself. There's a lot you need to make up for, Credence. You've been haunting my dreams almost every night, provoking me with those plump lips, opening your legs just like this. _Fuck_."

Mr. Graves' pace was erratic, he'd lost control of his movements, victim to the lust Credence had planted in him. Each shove was more forceful than the last, the ratty dustbin shaking beneath Credence with loud clatters. He was up on his toes, fearing tumbling forwards in a heap of limbs, but Mr. Graves was keeping him upright, pistoling into his hole like a deranged man. He was riding on the very edge of desire, ready to fall any moment. 

After a particularly hard thrust that had felt like a jab to the pit of his stomach, Credence cried out as his release was squeezed out him like a punch to his belly, hot liquid streaming out in spams. 

It was a relief, but it only served to enhance his senses now that he wasn't caught up in his own cloud of arousal. Every pull and push was torture, especially when Mr. Graves decided to tug back entirely and then force himself forward to the hilt. There was no method to his fucking, only blind urgency, as if he wanted to remind Credence this was his fault, as if he wanted to punish him. 

For better or for worse, this was a punishment Credence could live with. Although it hurt, the pain was strange and alien, and bearable. It was akin to pleasure too.

It made Credence proud for some unexplainable reason. God would never hold him in his divine embrace, God wasn't welcoming of those who were proud of being sodomized in a dirty alleyway by righteous men they had seduced into sin. 

"Harder", he whimpered, shocked at the high pitch of his own voice.

"You like it rough, boy? Your hungry little hole likes being ravaged by a fat cock, is that it?", he acquiesced in Credence's request, shaking the boy out of his bones with every renewed thrust. 

The man was getting closer, Credence could feel it in the unpredictable stutters of his hips, in the increasingly tight hand at the back of his neck. He was anxious for the man to paint him with his seed, wanted to feel him flooding his tight channel with the warm viscous liquid.

He'd go back to the streets to hand out flyers, and Mr. Graves' semen would ooze out of his sensitive hole, trickle down his thigh, and no one would suspect a thing. 

Mr. Graves draped himself over Credence, fucking into him as if he was nothing more than a prop, and then he was coming: panting and trying to regain his composure, and shooting his release inside Credence until there was no more for the boy's hole to milk out of him. 

The man pulled out and cleaned himself with a silent spell, swiftly tucking himself back in his expensive black slacks. Then he fixed stray hairs back into place and readjusted the scarf around his neck. All the while Credence was awkwardly staring at him, only pulling up his pants when Mr. Graves told him to. 

"I need to go now, Credence. The President could be waiting for me."

"Of course, Mr. Graves", replied Credence meekly.

Mr. Graves was a very important man; it was wrong of Credence to waste his time with such nimieties.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, my boy", Credence couldn't help but lean into the man's touch when he cradled his cheek in one hand.

Mr. Graves’ voice was like melted caramel, soft and sweet, and intoxicating.  Credence was afraid of tainting Mr. Graves with his foul wickedness, but he was too weak to resist the man. 

"I’ll come see you in a week. And, be warned, my boy, if you so much as tease me with those shy, lascivious smiles of yours again, I'm afraid I'm going to need to make good use of that tight little hole until you’ve learned your lesson.”, then he gave a firm squeeze to the swell of Credence’s backside, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, “Understood?"

He was staring at Credence severely, far from angry, but as if expecting Credence to be in his best behavior come next week. 

"Yes, Mr. Graves.", answered Credence promptly.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to behave though, he was wicked and unnatural, just like his mother. He couldn’t help but feeling deeply sorry for Mr. Graves. It was almost certain the poor man would end up falling into sin once more, and it was all Credence's fault.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on tumblr: [elvishflower](http://elvishflower.tumblr.com/)


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